The Road Less Traveled
by crazymadjo
Summary: House and Wilson are on their way to a restaurant, when House takes a detour. Mid-season six.


**THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED  
>by crazymadjo<strong>

**Story takes place mid-season seven.  
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"... and then she pulls out an _iguana_! House, this thing was _huge_!"

House stared through the windshield, praying to every god he didn't believe in to please turn the light green, already. He knew exactly where Wilson's story was going, but held his tongue.

"I couldn't imagine what ... I mean, I thought things were about to get seriously kinky." Wilson paused, waiting for House's imagination to catch up, blissfully unaware that it was already way ahead of him. "I was actually getting a little scared. I checked to see if there was a clear path to the doors and windows. She had these huge, billowy curtains. Pink, and ..."

"Wilson." The light changed. _Thank you._ House jammed down the gas hard enough to make the tires squeal.

"Hey, take it easy. We've got reservations. So, anyway, do you know what she said next? I mean, you'll never ... can you even guess?"

"It had cancer."

"What she ... what? Wait, what?"

House struggled to keep a straight face. "The iguana had cancer. She wanted you to cure it." Wilson fell silent. After a few moments, House glanced over to see him blinking rapidly at him with a stunned expression. "Sorry."

He turned his attention back to the road. Neither said a word for awhile. Finally, Wilson broke the silence. "For what?"

"What?"

"Sorry for what? Ruining my story, or because she didn't ...?"

House realized that the honest answer was _neither_. "Both."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks."

They continued on in the darkness. House made a right turn, then another. It was staring to rain lightly.

"Where are we going?" Wilson asked.

"Hmm?" House answered in mock-innocence.

Wilson pointed to a sign as they passed. "We're on the wrong street. The restaurant was straight ahead. We were almost there. Why ..?"

"You said we had reservations. I'm taking a detour."

Wilson squinted at him. "Beeee-cause?"

House huffed. "What, I can't just feel like taking a detour? It's nice night."

"It's a lousy night, and no, you can't. You don't. Where are we going?"

House smiled approval. He kept one hand on the wheel, reached the other into his jacket, and pulled out two sheets of paper. He handed them to Wilson.

Wilson pulled a pen light out of his pocket. _Boy Scouts are always prepared_, House thought. Wilson shined the light on the top page. It was a blurry photo of a man standing in front of a doorway. He switched off the light. "You went out with Lucas again, didn't you?"

House couldn't contain a full fledged smile. _Quick! And was that a note of jealousy?_ "Maybe."

"House. Look, I don't want any part in ..."

"You're not. It's not. Trust me. I just need to do something. It will only take a minute."

Wilson shoved the papers back at him. "He's going to get you into trouble."

House pulled the car over and parked. They were in front of the building in the photo. "Wait here."

"No! House, what are you ..?" House got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side. Wilson opened the door and scrambled out after him, then reeled back when House spun on his heel and swung his cane in Wilson's face. "I said _wait!_" Wilson opened his mouth, then let it clamp shut again. He swung his legs back in the car and slammed the door. "Fine. Get killed. Or arrested. I'm not going to bail you out this time." He continued his reproachments even though House has moved too far away to hear. House limped up the walkway to the building, shoved the papers through the mail-slot, turned and headed back. He got back in the car and started the engine. Wilson was still grousing. "Don't even come crying to me when ... wait. That's it? That's all you're going to do?"

House glanced over his shoulder, and pulled away from the curb. "Disappointed?"

Wilson pretended to consider his answer. "Um, no."

"We'll still make it to the restaurant by nine." House took a left, then another.

"So?"

"What?"

Wilson gestured both arms in back in the direction they'd just come. "So ... what was that? "

House stopped at another light. "I took them with my cell. Lucas thought I was texting you. You and I had a huge fight Friday night, by the way."

"How sad. So why did you take that guy's picture?"

House sighed. _Might as well tell him, or I won't even get to enjoy my meal._ "Lucas was hired by the guy's business partner to spy on him. The guy is seeing a shrink. That was the shrink's office we just left. Private. Very exclusive clientele. He was meeting him in the off hours."

Wilson frowned. "And his partner ... was worried about him?"

House smiled, this time sadly. _How have you survived this long?_ "His partner wants to prove him mentally incompetent to their shareholders, and get him fired." The light turned. House pulled away more gently this time while Wilson made incoherent sounds of rage. Finally, Wilson composed himself enough to say, "So ... you put the pictures through the slot to - to warn him? So he'll know he's being spied on?"

"Yep."

They drove in silence for the next ten minutes. House pulled up to the restaurant. He killed the engine, and they both just sat in silence. He finally risked a glance at Wilson, who was staring down at his knees. "Hey." Wilson looked up. It was too dark to see his expression clearly.

Wilson said, "You're ... that was good. That was very good."

House looked away quickly, opened the door, then glanced back. By the glow of the cabin light, he could see Wilson was grinning widely. "Of course, you blew the case. Lucas won't get paid." House smirked back at him. Wilson added, "I guess he won't be able to take Cuddy anywhere nice for awhile."

"Nope." House turned away. "Hungry?"

"Yeah."

They got out of the car.

End


End file.
